


Take a Chance on Me

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall isn't really sure how this started. Not this specifically. This started with five pints and being separated for well over a month. This as in the larger picture, how things went from subtle flirting and overly fond touches to Niall being in a two year ‘friends with benefits’ relationship with Harry Styles, who currently has him tied to a headboard in his hotel room in Sydney.</p><p>For the prompt "Niall and Harry are just sleeping together, but its more than that"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Chance on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrashTalkingTozier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashTalkingTozier/gifts).



> Okay I have to admit, I've never been so nervous about a story in my life. I had the fantastic pleasure, and the supremely daunting task, of writing for a legend in the Narry community, Nicole a.k.a Urbanizayntion. I really hope this is good enough, because I really tried to make this something she'd enjoy.
> 
> I didn't mean for this to get as angsty as it did, but I have a habit of letting my stories run away from me. I also have a habit of being unable to pick just one prompt. This is the story I've chosen to publish for the challenge, but there's another one coming too. I fell in love with it, but I want to write more. I'll still be dedicating it to the beautiful Urbanizayntion though, because it was her prompt that gave me the idea. Stay tuned for more, and come read my stories once the authors are revealed to check up for the other story.

Niall isn’t really sure how this started. Not this specifically. This started with five pints and being separated for well over a month. This as in the larger picture, how things went from subtle flirting and overly fond touches to Niall being in a two year ‘friends with benefits’ relationship with Harry Styles, who currently has him tied to a headboard in his hotel room in Sydney.

He knows the when: during the middle of their second tour, and off and on since then. He knows the why: Harry is incredibly fit and they have mind-blowing sex. What he doesn’t understand is how things got this far, how he let himself fall for his best friend when this started out so fun and easy. It wasn’t supposed to develop into anything more, and he supposes for Harry it hasn’t, but he’s starting to realize that it has for him. Well not starting to realize. He’s been thinking about this for a while. Months actually.

This isn’t the best time for his thoughts to wander though, as Harry fucks into him. He can’t even focus on it enough to enjoy it, and Harry definitely takes notice of that. “Are you soft?” he scoffs, his hips coming to a stop.

“’M a bit distracted.” Niall admits sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“You’re distracted? Right now?” Harry asks with a groan. “What could possibly be more important than this at the moment?”

“Um- Footy scores?” Niall offers. Good god he should have come up with something better than that. Anything would have been better than that. Literally anything. He could have thought of a thousand different things that would have been better, but the first thing to pop out of his damn mouth is ‘Footy scores’.

“And on that note, I think we’re done.” Harry grumbles, pulling out of Niall in one swift motion that leaves him feeling empty and alone. Harry climbs off the bed and tugs on his skinny jeans, a scowl painting his features when he asks “Can you undo the knots yourself, or do you need me to do it?”

“I’ll do it meself.” Niall sighs, watching the muscles of Harry’s retreating back as he leaves without having waited for an answer. He tugs at the restraints, which Harry has apparently added super glue to, and realizes he either needs help, or to accept the fact that he’ll have to sleep like this until Paddy finds him in the morning.

Aid arrives a few minutes later when Zayn pops his head in, rolling his eyes at the way Niall is trying to chew through the tie on his left wrist. “Harry said you might need help.” he mumbles.

“I told ‘im I’d take care of it myself.” Niall hisses, trying to cover himself with his legs. They don’t bend properly though and he has to resign himself to just sitting with them closed and turned to the side.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen bro.” Zayn says, an evil glint shimmering in his eyes. The other boys are definitely going to know about this about ten seconds after he leaves. Very rarely does Niall hate how close they all are, but right now is definitely one of those moments. “I’m not Harry. You can tell me if you need something.”

“What’s that supposed t’ mean?” Niall asks, failing to keep his voice even no matter how hard he tries.

“You know what I mean.” Zayn says, infuriatingly abstruse as always. He loves to be as ambiguous as possible, and Niall suspects it’s so he can claim he was right all along whenever somebody he talks to comes to a conclusion.

He glances at Niall’s bonds, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question. “Alright, fine.” Niall groans. “Please, Zayn, will ya untie me?”

“If I must.” he says with a weary sigh. His shit eating grin gives away how much he’s enjoying this though. Niall thinks he should seriously consider trying to join Five Seconds of Summer. They’d never treat him like this. Well maybe Mikey would, but he wouldn’t be sleeping (and maybe a bit in love) with any of them, so it’s already one step up.

He crosses the room, his signature smirk fixed firmly in place. Niall hates that look. He hates how everyone and their mother swoons over it. He hates how it reminds him of Harry’s, perfectly gorgeous and smoldering. But most of all, he hates how it always seems like Zayn is hiding a secret when he wears it. Like he knows something that nobody else has quite figured out yet. He might, he’s sharper than a tack, and twice as tight lipped as he is intuitive, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

“So how come he left you tied up to the bed then?” Zayn asks, working on the tight knots with his long fingers.

“I fucked up.” Niall admits quietly. “I started thinking and I got a wee bit distracted.”

“In the middle of a shag?” Zayn asks, a laugh dancing at the edge of his tone that he’s too calculating to actually let out. “What about?”

“None of yer bloody business.” Niall says, a warning in his voice that shows he means business. He’s held onto plenty of secrets for Zayn, and he can let them go at any time. He’s in that bad of a mood.

“I’d say it became my business when Harry interrupted what I was doing with Leeyum just to get me to come over here and untie you.” Zayn tuts.

“Wish it had been Liam.” Niall grumbles.

“Well I’m the one who was still dressed.” Zayn shrugs.

“What the hell were you two doing?” Niall asks, suddenly intensely curious.

“Playing FIFA you perv.” Zayn laughs. “But you know how Leeyum gets when he’s had a few. Can’t get him to keep his bloody clothes on.”

“At least he’s not hideous.” Niall points out. “There are worse things to stare at than Liam’s muscles.”

“You get that we aren’t together right, like you and Haz?” Zayn asks. “We’ve managed to stay mates without becoming boyfriends.”

“We’re not boyfriends!” Niall says, a little too loudly and a little too quickly to be discreet or believable. He hates that word though, so full of hope and promises he could never really expect Harry to keep. They’re mates. Mates who shag so hard they bring down the house, but just mates nonetheless. Boyfriend means commitment, it means love. That’s not what this is. It never was before anyway, not until Niall had to go and muck things up with his stupid feelings and shit.

“Of course not.” Zayn says, that annoying smirk coming back with a vengeance. His fingers undo the knot right at that second, Harry’s scarf fluttering down and the blood rushing back into Niall’s hand.

“I can get the other one now.” Niall mumbles. “Thanks.”

“Don’t make a habit of this please.” Zayn throws over his shoulder in the cockiest voice Niall has ever heard. “I’m not in the business of cleaning up Harry’s messes.”

He makes it out the door just in time to avoid the pillow Niall whips at his head, hitting the wood and flopping to the ground uselessly. Tomorrow morning Louis is going to find out that Zayn is the one who ruined his favorite pair of shoes last year with a glob of bubble-gum, and that soothes Niall’s angry mind just a bit. He tugs off the other knot, sighing in relief when his hand stops tingling and returns to it’s normal color. He’s not sure when Harry learned to tie knots so well, and his stomach clenches at the thought.

He throws Harry’s scarves in the drawer of his bedside table in an attempt to put it out of his mind, but it doesn’t work. He’s only bout half as ashamed as he thinks he probably should be when he pulls one of them back out, wrapping it around his wrist and falling asleep with the scent of Harry wafting softly off of it.

 

Everyone is in a bad mood the next morning. Everyone except for Liam that is, who just seems confused, sitting there with a slight frown on his face while he watches Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Harry all stake out separate corners in the waiting room before their interview. Niall tries to keep in the groans when Liam chooses to start with him. “Ni, what’s going on with everyone?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing Liam.” Niall mumbles, turning away and taking a pull off a beer it’s far too early for.

“Ni, please.” Liam whines, turning his annoying puppy-dog face on maximum efficacy.

“Jus go ask somebody else.” Niall pleads. “I really don’t want t’ talk ‘bout it.”

“Zayn won’t even speak to me right now, and Louis will just start a fight.” Liam sighs. “Do you know what’s going on with them at least?”

“I may have let something slip about Louis’ shoes and Zayn’s involvement in their ruination.” Niall admits. “He probably thinks you’re the one that told Louis, so sorry about that.”

“And what’s wrong with Harry?” Liam asks, apparently ignoring the fact that Niall unintentionally got him in trouble with his best mate.

“That’s part of my thing, so no dice.” Niall huffs.

“You got everyone in a fight because you’re having boyfriend troubles?” Liam asks incredulously.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Niall shouts, forgetting for just a moment that he and Liam aren’t alone. Blood rushes to his face, pounding in his head so loudly he can’t hear what Harry says. He can see his mouth moving, can see the angry look on his face, but he just can’t make out the words. Niall can’t even ask what Harry said before he’s flinging the door open and storming out. He can only hear the slam of it ringing in his ears.

It leaves the room echoing with the sound of it for several seconds, nobody daring to say a word. Liam gives him a sympathetic look, but Niall can’t quite tell why. “What did- what did he say?” Niall asks Liam in a whisper. “I couldn’t hear him.”

“He said he doesn’t even know what you are, and maybe you should have that conversation with him before you go around telling everyone.” Liam admits quietly. “Only with a bit more cursing than was really necessary. He’s really mad at you.”

“Well I guess he can get in fucking line then.” Niall snaps, slamming his beer down on the table and taking off out the door Harry had used only a minute before. He doesn’t know where Harry went, but he heads in the direction that has the least amount of people. That’s generally the best way to find some peace and quiet in his life.

Of course that would be too much to ask, and Paddy catches up with him after only a few steps. “You’re due on set in ten minutes.” he says calmly.

“I’ll be there. Just give me a few minutes by meself.” Niall mutters, wrenching his arm out of Paddy’s grasp.

“Just make sure you’ve put yourself together by then.” Paddy sighs, shaking his head. Louis’ pranks may get the most visible rise out of Paddy, but he definitely gets more fed up when any of the boys fight. They always pick the worst times for it.

Nonetheless, Niall needs to have a minute alone. If he’s going to cry he really just doesn’t want to do it in front of the lads. He finds a loo, locking himself inside and taking a shaky breath. “I really need to learn to lock a door.” an all too familiar voice says behind him, thick and slow as molasses.

“Harry!” Niall yelps, turning around to find the lanky man sitting on the floor.

“Can we not do this right now?” he asks, picking at a loose thread on his ripped skinny jeans. “I really don’t want to talk.”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for you.” Niall says harshly. “I was looking for a minute alone. So don’t worry, we won’t talk right now. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry glares up at him defiantly, something right on the edge of his tongue. Niall wouldn’t even know where to start reading the expression on his face. There are too many things flashing by. Whatever he says is lost though when Niall tears open the door and makes quick work of fleeing, running as best as he can until he finds a door marked ‘EXIT’. There must be something up there looking out for him, because the door leads to a place outside that is blessedly free of any fans, security staff, or angry (and probably ex) fuck buddies that he may or may not be in love with.

There are cigarette butts littered on the ground and Niall absentmindedly wishes Louis was around to steal a smoke from and maybe try and make him laugh. Zayn will know by now that it was him and not Liam who told Louis about the gum, so he’ll have to deal with that grudge for quite a while. Zayn is as stubborn as he is vague, and Liam craves his approval so he’ll shun Niall as well. They may not be together, but they’re so married it’s annoying.

He’s going to have to catch a separate car back to the hotel, because for the first time he can remember since they were all put together back on X-Factor he’s the one nobody wants to talk to. It’s not a good feeling.

 

The interviewer is, of course, overly chipper and impossibly inane. They always seem to be these days. Niall is seriously worried for the future of journalism if it’d going to be in the hands of bubbly blonde women who can’t even bother to do their research. They always ask the same questions, and frankly it’s as annoying for the band as it is for their fans.

He’s seated next to Louis at least, which is good because he’s the only one in the band currently not pissed off with Niall. The problem is he’s also sat next to Harry. He’s a professional, and can therefore put on a convincing smile and act like nothing is wrong. That doesn’t make it hurt any less when he realizes Harry is refusing to look at him. It’s subtle of course, nothing other people would notice, but to Niall it’s like a flashing neon sign of just how angry Harry really is at him.

He’s gotten pathetically used to the beaming smiles, the waggling eyebrows, the arm thrown casually around his shoulder, all these little private things Harry uses to communicate with him during these interviews. None of that is there this time. Harry is pressed right up against the arm of the sofa, putting as much space between him and Niall as is possible with the five of them packed onto one couch.

“So, I know you boys have a concert next Saturday, but it is a very special day after all. Do any of you have special plans for Valentine’s Day?” the interviewer asks.

“My girlfriend and I celebrated last weekend since I’m going to be here. I bought her a dozen roses for every year we’ve been together and made her dinner.” Louis tells her, gaining a soft ‘Aww’ from the audience.

“My girlfriend will actually be flying out here a few days before hand, so we’re going to go out after the concert and have dinner.” Liam grins, gaining an even larger sound of approval from the audience.

“And my fiancée is very busy with her group’s next album, so we’re waiting until we can get a good night completely to ourselves.” Zayn says, receiving an obviously fake sympathetic look from the interviewer.

“And what about you two?” she asks. “Anyone special to spend Valentine’s day with?”

The answer catches in Niall’s throat, because they’ve never done anything like that. They don’t have dates, just sex. He honestly has no idea what they even are to each other, and that was before the fight. Harry answers first “Nope. No plans. I’m not dating anyone at the moment so I’ll probably just spend it alone in my hotel room. Maybe a bar if I’m still wound up.”

“Same here.” Niall says, miraculously keeping his voice steady. “Single Pringle still. Nobody important in my life other than these lads here.” He points at Zayn, Liam, and Louis in a sweeping gesture and finishes with “So no, no plans.”

 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Harry groans, stepping onto the bus. “Weren’t you just on the other bus?”

“I came over to this one to give you some space.” Niall says quietly, folding in even more on himself than he already had been. “None of you are exactly talking to me right now, except Tommo, so I figured this was best.”

“You realize you’ve started shit between all of us now, right?” Harry asks, his face set in stone.

“I know.” Niall nods. “Sorry if things were tense over there.”

“Louis and Zayn made up over a joint.” Harry tells him. “So at least there’s that.”

“Good. Now you can all just be mad at me.” Niall sighs. “I’ll go back to the bunks. You can have up here to yourself.”

“Don’t-” Harry starts, his face softening for just a fraction of a second. “You don’t have to do that. You were here first.”

“I know how you need your space.” Niall says quietly.

“Fine then. Just go.” Harry grumbles. Niall doesn’t offer protest, too drained from the exhaustion of being reviled all day to do anything to defend himself. Harry has every reason to be mad at him after last night, and Niall really doesn’t want to fight anymore. He stands up off the couch and makes his way towards the back, but he doesn’t make it more than a few steps before Harry’s hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him back around. “God, what happened to you?”

“I don’t-” Niall starts to sputter.

“Where’s the fight? Where’s the fiery little Irishman I’ve known for the last four and a half years?” Harry asks harshly. “The Niall I- the Niall I know never goes down without a fight.”

“He’s gone Harry!” Niall snaps. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown up a bit. And now I know when to walk away.”

“Walk away from what?” Harry asks, his voice small in a way that Niall’s never heard from him before.

“From something that doesn’t serve a purpose.” Niall snarls, ripping his wrist free from Harry’s grip. “This fight serves no purpose, so I’m walking away. I have no interest in being yelled at, because one time, in over two years, I didn’t give you every ounce of my attention.”

“You think this is about last night?” Harry asks, looking at Niall as if he’s grown two heads or something.

“Honestly, Harry, I could care less what your current diva snit-fit is about. Have a strop on your own time. I have too much on my mind to try and deal with that too.” Niall sighs, turning away from Harry and shutting the door to the bunks behind himself. He might’ve just ruined every chance he had with Harry, but that would require actually having had a chance with him in the first place. That was never really the case, just a delusion from a boy who hoped that having one dream come true would mean getting them all.

 

Harry avoids him after that, barely even coming near him when they’re on stage, and completely sealing himself off whenever they aren’t. Zayn has mercifully given up on his grudge early, seeing the way Niall has retreated into himself with his best friend keeping him away. And it’s nice, the way him and Liam are cuddled up on the couch with the blond, obviously letting him win whenever they play FIFA, but it isn’t right. He’s always been the most comfortable with Harry, ever since the beginning of things back on the show.

He hasn’t hung out with just Liam and Zayn this much since early on in things when Harry would always follow Louis around like a lost puppy, leaving Niall as the ever present third wheel no matter who he chose to be around. Liam and Zayn just didn’t seem to mind as much, Louis having always been frustrated that Niall payed more attention to Harry than to him, doing anything he could to make the curly-haired lad laugh. 

Things changed a bit when the fans made things awkward between Harry and Louis, forcing them to spend time apart and for Niall and Harry to pair off instead. He doesn’t know the whole story there, both boys refusing adamantly to talk about what happened between them even after all this time. It’s been something he’s wanted to know for a long time, but at the same time he’s always been a little afraid to know the truth.

“Oh come on Niall, even I can’t pretend to lose to you if you’re going to just stop doing anything at all.” Zayn groans, digging a sharp elbow into Niall’s side. “I’m pretty good at faking it, but not that good.”

“That’s what I’ve heard from Perrie.” Liam says, snorting out a laugh. Zayn’s hand darts out like lightning, smacking against the back of Liam’s head with an audible crack. That shuts Liam right up, but sends Niall into a round of cackles that the other two soon join in on. He laughs until he can’t breathe, his ribs aching from the effort.

“What’s got you stuck up in your head?” Zayn asks once they calm down a bit.

“Nothing important.” Niall mutters, his levity immediately draining out of him like he’s a sieve.

“Don’t give me that.” Zayn sighs. “You’ve been a complete mope for almost a week now. I’m not sure what happened between you and Harry, and to be honest I don’t really want to. That’s your business. But it’s messing things up pretty badly for all five of us. Whether he’s your boyfriend or not, you two are best mates. One of you has to fix that, and it’s probably not going to be Harry. You know how stubborn he can get.”

“Yeah, I do. But why should I be the first one to break?” Niall asks, barely holding his indignant yelling in check. He really needs to keep at least one friend in this group.

“Because you’re in love with him, you complete twat.” Zayn says, rolling his eyes.

“I- I am not.” Niall protests, torn between running away and trying to make a joke.

“You can’t lie to us mate.” Liam says softly. “We know you are.”

“Lads, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Niall stammers. “We shag, yeah, but that’s all it ever was. That was the deal.”

“But that’s not all it really was, was it?” Liam asks, his face going horribly sympathetic. Niall hates that look, hates when people feel sorry for him. It’s not kind, it’s condescending.

“Yes. It is.” Niall lies.

“Say it like you mean it. Tell me to my face that you don’t have feelings for Harry, and I’ll leave it alone.” Zayn says, that knowing look piercing through Niall like a bullet. There’s no point in lying once Zayn gets that look. He always seems to know the truth.

“Fine, okay?” Niall groans. “I do, but that’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important you raging prat.” Zayn groans.

“Why?” Niall asks, bile rising up in his throat. “It’s not going anywhere. It never has been.”

“Then end it permanently and start getting over him.” Zayn tells him. “Or better yet you could try talking to him about how you feel. Do what you want, but this limbo you two are in isn’t good for anyone.”

“I’m not telling him.” Niall mutters.

“That’s your decision.” Liam sighs. “Whatever you do though, you need to do soon. Sophia is coming in tomorrow, so I won’t be here to take the smacks you deserve from Zee.”

“You deserved that one all on your own Babe.” Zayn laughs.

“Fuck off. You never hit me.” Liam pouts, his bottom lip sticking out pathetically towards Zayn.

“Maybe I should more often. You’re getting a bit too comfortable making fun of me.” Zayn smirks. “Plus, I think you like it.”

“You two are so much worse than Harry and I ever were.” Niall scoffs. “I’ll leave you alone so you can give each other butterfly kisses, or whatever you do when you’re alone.”

“Mostly I just hold up a mirror so Zayn can see how pretty he is at any given moment.” Liam says, a shit eating grin fixed firmly in place. “Butterfly kisses are for special occasions.”

Niall mimes gagging, chucking a pillow at Liam’s stupid face and shuffling out of the room. He hears Liam whispering something that he almost doesn’t catch before the door shuts behind him. It sends ice through his veins, doubt tickling at the back of his mind. Six simple words that haunt him on the way back to his own room, devoid of any warmth or happiness like Harry usually brings to it when he sneaks in. They roll around his head until he falls asleep. “Maybe we should have told him.”

 

Niall takes a deep breath, shuddering like his lungs can’t quite fill themselves to capacity. They’re just off their concert in Brisbane, and Niall can’t put this off any more. The entire team is out at a bar somewhere, but Niall knows Harry came back to the hotel. He stole the spare key-card off of Paddy thanks to a clever distraction from Louis. He owes the older lad some vague favor in the future that he’s sure he’ll regret agreeing to, but it was worth it.

Tonight is the end of things, and that’s as much of a relief as it is a sucking wound in Niall’s chest. He knows it’s for the best, but that doesn’t make the pain any less raw, any less intense. He swipes the card through the slot, hating the sound of the lock that clicks open because it means this is real now. There’s no turning back. The door closes behind him when he steps through, near silent considering the heft of it.

“I think we should talk.” Niall says softly, startling Harry from where he’s curled up on the couch. His eyes are puffy, the stains of tears on his cheeks and it breaks Niall’s heart just looking at him. “Haz- Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Can we not do this right now?” Harry asks, his voice thick and dry. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“We don’t have to talk about that. We can just talk. Whatever you need Harry.” Niall murmurs, sitting down next to him and pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead. Fuck. He’s such a pushover when it comes to this stupidly beautiful boy. He came to end things, not to just fall all over again.

“Whatever I need?” Harry asks, his eyes wide, searching Niall’s for some nameless thing Niall probably couldn’t identify if he had a million, billion years.

“Whatever you need.” Niall agrees, barely able to breathe with Harry so close. He can’t even bring himself to stop it when Harry surges forward, kissing him deeply and straddling over his lap. It’s salty from the tears that linger on his lips, the taste of Harry’s sadness caught on the edge of Niall’s tongue.

“No talking then.” Harry pleads quietly, a hushed whisper across Niall’s lips. “Just this one last time, please. Give me this.”

Niall swallows around the lump in his throat, catching Harry’s green eyes with his own blue ones. He gives the shallowest of nods, barely noticeable unless you were so close that your noses brush, like they are. He’s the one who starts it this time, pressing his lips into Harry’s and tangling his fingers in the obnoxiously long hair that he’s come to love over time, just to pull him closer. He’s never been one to deny Harry anything, and this is no exception. If they can end this on a better note than the other night on the bus, than that’s all the better. He won’t come out of this without his scars, but that was never going to happen anyways.

Harry whimpers softly into the kiss and Niall pulls back, seeing a fresh round of tears starting to roll down his cheeks. “Harry-” he starts, worried that this is just making things worse.

“Don’t.” Harry begs. “No talking, remember? Whatever I need.”

“Are you sure this is what you want though?” Niall asks.

“No.” Harry admits, choking on a sob. “But it’s what I need.”

“Alright.” Niall submits, unable to work out what that’s even supposed to mean. He captures Harry’s mouth again, wrapping an arm around the small of his back and laying him down on the couch. Harry’s legs lock around Niall’s back, and he keeps the blond trapped in place with long fingers hooked around his neck like he’s afraid Niall will disappear if he lets him go even by an inch.

It makes it difficult to undo the buttons on Harry’s shirt, but he never does all of the damn things up, so Niall manages, clumsy though it may be. His hands wander over the inked expanse of Harry’s torso, every centimeter of it familiar under Niall’s fingertips. He’s explored it countless times, watching in slow motion as it tightened and became a canvas for whatever caught Harry’s attention. The (admittedly, very sexy) laurel leaves just as much a part of him as the absolutely ridiculous butterfly.

Niall loves it though, all of it from the swallows to the ‘Mer-twat’ as the fans so hilariously named it. He loves it because they’re all so- so Harry. He pays special attention to each of them, making sure to imprint them as deep into his memory as he can since this will be the last time he can see them so close. It’s bittersweet, the way memories flood him at each glance. Harry tries to tug him back up, to keep him trapped against his mouth, but Niall doesn’t let that happen. He trails kisses down Harry’s chest instead, enjoying the firm muscle underneath the milky soft skin.

Harry is, and always has been, an enigma. He’s caught somewhere between a boy and a man, between the giddy innocence of youth and the fatigue of someone whose life has been longer than their years would indicate. It’s the thing Niall loves most about him, how he can laugh at his own abominably corny jokes one minute, and then wax philosophical the next. It’s also the one single thing that Niall hates about him, because he’s never been enough to truly hold Harry’s attention. It’s wrecked him completely, bringing him to his knees when he’s supposed to finally be standing up for himself.

That thought isn’t enough to stop him though. He’s not going to let go of the grasp he has on Harry’s focus this one last time. It’s not selfish if you know it will leave you worse off for it. How could anyone but Niall make that choice? To break himself down one last time, just to give Harry what he needs in that moment. It’s foolish and masochistic. That’s Niall to a T.

His fingers trail up the inside of Harry’s thigh, covered by jeans that are so sinfully tight that they seem almost painted onto him. Niall’s aren’t much better though, something he took to wearing after Harry expressed an interest in him in them. It’s strange now, looking back and seeing all the ways he’s changed to try and keep Harry interested in him, even before he’d known his feelings.

He shakes the thought from his head, refocusing on the task that is (quite literally) at hand. As he undoes the button on Harry’s jeans his hands are startlingly calm, considering the storm raging inside of him. The zip comes down easily, even stressed as it is by the bulge of Harry’s prick underneath it. He lets it free, tugging down the jeans and pants down around his thighs in one swift pull. His fingers wrap around Harry loosely, instinctively, feeling the familiar heft of it. He gives it a tug, soaking up the moan Harry lets out before he lets go of it again.

A whine builds in Harry’s throat, a desperate sound that only stops when Niall swallows him down. The moan that bounces off the walls makes Niall glad that the nobody else is on the hotel floor. Harry never has been good at keeping quiet during their little hook-ups. It was a real problem when they spent the majority of their time on the buses rather than in hotel rooms. Back then it had been tentative and full of nerves, each time focusing just as hard on not getting caught as getting off. This time is different, Niall assured of his abilities, taking Harry to the back of his throat having finally learned to suppress his gag-reflex.

He knows all the tricks now, how to take Harry right to the edge with his tongue and a deep hum that builds at the back of his throat. He uses one hand in tandem with his mouth, the other massaging lightly at Harry’s balls. “’M close.” Harry warns.

Niall pulls his mouth of with a popping sound that bounces off the windows obscenely. His hand keeps a gentle pace and he asks “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes.” Harry says after a moment, worrying at his lip like he isn’t quite sure of the answer himself. Niall lets his hand drop away, taking a sadistic sort of pleasure in the way Harry’s hips buck up in search of more contact. “I need more.”

“Have you got anything out here?” Niall asks.

“In my bag.” Harry mumbles, pointing at the tan satchel on the floor. Niall rummages through it, pulling out a well used bottle of lube and a condom. Leave it to Harry to carry those around with him.

“You or me?” Niall asks, holding the supplies out in front of him.

“You.” Harry says, surprisingly enough, pushing Niall’s hands back towards him. It’s not like he’s never topped. They’ve been doing this for two years after all. Harry usually opts to top though, and Niall is usually more than happy with that arrangement. Harry isn’t known as a sex-god for no reason. He’s very good at what he does. 

Niall isn’t going to turn down the opportunity though. He shucks off his shirt first, and then his jeans before refocusing on Harry. He loops fingers underneath the fabric still clinging to Harry’s legs and pulls it off slowly, marveling at Harry’s impossibly long legs. His fingers ghost right back up the skin, feather light touches while his mouth leaves a path of kisses and nips right behind. He scrapes his teeth over the protruding hills of Harry’s hip while his hands make quick work of slicking the fingers of his left hand.

It’s a gentle press, the tip of his finger begging entrance, that has Harry keening from the back of his throat. He nods fervently to a question that was never vocalized. Not that it needs to be. They’ve done this enough times to know when only the barest of permissions need to be granted. His middle finger pushes in slowly, delicately, searching for the spot until Harry’s back arcs of the couch, a tight little ball of curses spilling from his lips and sending a filthy bolt of lightning straight down Niall’s spine to his prick.

Things move more quickly from there, Harry’s neediness driving things faster and faster until Niall is three fingers deep inside him and they’re kissing like the world is about to end. Niall supposes that, for him, that’s not too far off from the truth. “’M ready.” Harry pants, barely breaking from Niall’s lips far enough to get the words out properly.

Niall nods, pressing one more kiss against Harry’s lips, before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the pair of boxer-briefs he’d been wearing earlier. He’ll have to throw them out and steal a pair from Zayn (the only one in the group who sends his laundry out regularly, instead of waiting for Paddy to yell at them for how they smell). He picks up the condom wrapper, moving to tear it open before Harry’s hand catches his. “Not this time.” he says softly, shaking his head.

“What? Harry we don’t- We’ve never-” Niall stammers.

“’M clean. Are you?” Harry asks nervously, biting his bottom lip.

“Last time I was checked, yeah.” Niall tells him, leaving unsaid that he hasn’t slept with anyone other than Harry since then. Since this all began actually. “But Harry-”

“I trust you Niall.” Harry says, cutting him off with a soft look. “I want to feel you, not that thing.”

“This is a terrible idea.” Niall mumbles to himself, dropping the condom on the floor.

“Thank you.” Harry whispers.

Niall doesn’t respond to him, can’t even bring himself to look Harry in the eyes. A part of him had hoped for a long time that this would happen, but not like this. Not as a goodbye. This was supposed to be because they had finally committed to being in a relationship, to being exclusive with each other. He has to choke down a sob that’s building in his throat, push it down to that deep dark place he’s storing all the thoughts and feelings he came out here to say.

Harry is tighter and warmer than he’d ever realized, squeezing a low growl out of Niall when he finally bottoms out with a clench of muscle. Harry, ever impatient in the face of impending orgasm, moves first, rolling his hips in an attempt to spur Niall forward. He drags his hips back, pulling out just shy of completely and then thrusting back in. Harry moans something unintelligible, just a series of guttural syllables that may or may not mean something to him.

He finds a steady rhythm, which is no easy task the way Harry’s hands are wandering over his body, distracting him just enough to make his hips falter every few thrusts. He has to surge forward, to kiss Harry so bloody hard that it makes him forget about anything other than the way Niall is pumping into him, just to keep his mind firmly in place. “More.” Harry moans, not even bothering to break the kiss properly.

Niall hooks his arm underneath the small of Harry’s back, pulling his hips up to an angle that lets the blond sink deeper in than before. His other hand entwines their fingers together, squeezing so hard that his knuckles go white. He pounds harder into Harry, putting stress on his knee that he knows he’ll regret in the morning. It’s just one more thing on the pile though, isn’t it?

“Right there Babes.” Harry whimpers. “Right fucking there.”

Niall keeps the angle and the rhythm, his muscles straining with the effort. It’s a deep burn that feels almost as bad as it does good. Then again that could be used to describe this entire experience. His orgasm is building quicker now, refusing to be pushed down for much longer. He makes an executive decision, pulling his hand free from the comfortable tangle with Harry’s to tug him off instead.

His strokes match in perfect time with his thrusts, one of the benefits of being a musician. He can easily match a rhythm. Harry unravels underneath him, panting and moaning for all he’s worth as Niall fucks into him. It’s too much, the sight of Harry all laid out like this. Niall can’t hold back any more, his orgasm getting the better of him. Stars burst in his eyes, entire galaxies being born and flaring out in the space between his pupils and his fluttering eyelids. Harry throws his head back, streaming white spurts of cum over his stomach while Niall keeps his thrusts up as best as he can. “Don’t stop!” Harry groans. “Please don’t stop!”

“Harry I-” Niall starts, his hips keeping up their pace despite the hypersensitivity threatening to overwhelm him now.

“I know.” Harry chokes out. “Not yet though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer.”

Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. Niall lays his body down flush against Harry’s, working himself in and out slowly to satisfy whatever cruel need Harry has to drag this out. He won’t be able to keep this up for long, he’s already starting to soften a bit, even with the tight clench of Harry around him. He’s got another minute or two left in him though, and he’ll be damned if he’s in any rush to say the words stuck in his throat.

“Kiss me.” Harry whispers, pulling Niall’s face upward. He does, slow and sweet because that’s the way Niall wants their last kiss to be. There’s no desperation or hunger, just a sad resignation that something that may have been special is ending. There’s a gentleness that hasn’t been there for a long time. His hips spur forward for as long as he can manage, his whole body draining energy faster than he would have thought possible.

He doesn’t say anything when it’s time to pull out, just pulls his face back to take in Harry’s. It’s softer now, vulnerable, showing the bits of Harry that only a lover would see. The pain he hides away, and the kindness that’s unrivaled by any saint. It was never cruel of him not to love Niall back, to ask him to be a safe place away from the insanity that can threaten to bring their lives down around their ears. It was Niall’s own futile hopes that have led him to hurting this much. He pushes Harry’s hair back over his ear, taking in one more time the intimate face of the man he loves, and then swallows the small gasp the brunet lets out when he pulls out completely.

“I can’t do it anymore.” Niall whispers, the words ringing in his ears with the importance of them. He’s done it, he’s finally ended things for good. It’s more crushing than relief at this point, the weight of it threatening to take Niall down to a darker place than he’d ever imagined.

Harry doesn’t respond at first, just glances into the wild mess of his own hair to avoid eye contact with Niall. His eyes squeeze shut and he nods. “Can you um- can you just go please? Just go.” he says, his voice broken, though Niall has no idea why. He’s not losing anything here, he’s not the one who’s in love. That pain belongs to Niall, and Niall alone.

Neither of them speak while he gets dressed, pulling on his jeans and shirt like a suit of armor just to keep him upright. The walk to the door is the loneliest he’s ever felt, and it eats at him how once upon a time he had imagined never having to do this, to end things. He’d been so stupidly naive. He doesn’t want to do it, but he feels like he needs to say it once he’s opened the door. “I loved you, you know. I loved you so much.”

The door closes behind him with a sound like a gunshot, filling the entire hotel floor with an echoing kind of despair Niall has never known. He remembers when he was the happy one in the group, nearly never the one who would get cross or sad. Harry had played such a large part in that, giving him strength when he’d felt like he had none of his own. How silly he’d have ever found the thought that it would be Harry’s fault he feels like he’ll never be happy again.

 

Niall spends the next day in his hotel room alone, jamming the door with a chair so that not even their security team can get in without making a mess of things with the hotel. Each of the boys (bar Harry of course) stops by at some point, pounding at the door and threatening to break it down. Louis comes startlingly close, attacking it like a rabid dog until he’s dragged away screaming by Paddy.

All the food he has is in the mini-bar, so he’s well past drunk by the time the sun sets because the chocolate bars and candied almonds don’t really absorb alcohol that well. He’s pretty sure that’s what’s to blame as he unbars the door to let Zayn in. He’s come back several times throughout the day, getting softer each time until he’s finally brought Niall a proper meal. He takes it greedily, stumbling over to the bed and throwing a “Close it back up, yeah?” over his shoulder.

“Should I feel special?” Zayn asks, putting the chair back the way Niall had it before.

“How d’ya mean?” Niall asks through a mouthful of fettuccine alfredo, his accent thicker with the weight of alcohol on his tongue.

“Heard you haven’t talked to anyone else at all today.” Zayn mutters, taking a seat next to Niall on the bed.

“Nobody else thought t’ bring me food.” Niall shrugs, shoveling another mouthful of pasta in to satisfy the rumbling of his stomach. “And I talked t’ me mum fer a bit.”

“Right then.” Zayn sighs. “Should I take it this little meltdown to mean that you ended things with Harry?”

“Nope.” Niall giggles drunkenly. “Just trying t’ renegotiate my contract so I make more than you lot.”

“Devious plotter.” Zayn laughs lightly.

“Di’nt ya know I’m a genius?” Niall asks, a mischievous grin curling his lips.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the case.” Zayn says, that smirk coming back rudely. “But I respect the effort. So about Harry-”

“I don’t want t’ talk about it Zayn.” Niall mumbles, filling his mouth to the point where he can barely close his lips just to prove a point.

“Well then you shouldn’t have let me in.” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. Fucking superior smug ass that he is.

“Guess I shouldn’t have.” Niall sighs after he’s swallowed his mouthful of food.

“See, here’s my thoughts on it.” Zayn says, launching into a spiel that Niall ignores completely, focusing on his meal instead. He’s become an expert at ignoring each of the lads over time, learning to drown them out with his own thoughts. Before he’s satisfied, his plate is empty, and he narrows his eyes like it’s personally insulted his mother. If he’d been paying any attention he’d have seen Zayn glaring at him, he’d have seen the hand before it pushed his chest and sent him tumbling to the floor. “I’m not talking for my own health here mate.”

“No, you’re talking because you’re a complete git, shoving his nose in where it doesn’t belong.” Niall snarls, propping himself up on his elbows to match every ounce of the acid in Zayn’s glare with his own. “You don’t know anything about this.”

“I know more than you think.” Zayn says, irritatingly vague once again. Niall briefly thinks about flinging the plate at him, but decides against it because he’s pretty sure Paddy would break down the door if the two of them actually started fighting for real. That, and Zayn is deceptively strong, his wiry body packing a fair amount of muscle. Niall would probably lose that fight. Zayn plays dirty.

“Zayn, what part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you understand?” Niall asks.

“Why you let me in if you don’t want to discuss the most important thing that’s happened to you in a very long time. That’s what I don’t understand.” Zayn groans. “You had to know that I’d want to talk to you bout this. I just want to help.”

“You can help by leaving things alone.” Niall explains. “Maybe one day I will want t’ talk about it, but today isn’t that day. Ya brought me food, and I thank you fer it, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just bare my soul t’ ya. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours yet. I need time t’ get me own head wrapped around it first. I loved him, and now it’s done fer good. That takes time.”

“Fine.” Zayn sighs. “Do you want me to go?”

“If ya don’t mind, yeah.” Niall nods, angry with himself for pushing away one of his best mates just so he can wallow in self-pity. It’s better than the alternative though, listening to someone in a successful relationship try and coach him through the worst breakup of his life (which wasn’t even really a break up). He doesn’t need the smug self-satisfied rambling right now.

“Alright, but Niall you need to talk to someone about this.” Zayn says softly, a hand on Niall’s shoulder pulling him into a hug made awkward by the difference in height between the bed and the floor. “’M here if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Niall mumbles into the soft shirt covering Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn nods, dropping an affectionate peck into Niall’s fringe before standing up and striding over to the door. He takes a second to un-wedge the chair from under the knob, and then turns back around. “I shouldn’t tell you this by the way, but I wasn’t the one who thought to bring you the food. That was Harry’s idea. He just didn’t think you’d take it from him, but he wanted to make sure you were being taken care of.”

He disappears before Niall can respond, not that he’d know how. He crawls across the floor, tucking the chair into place before climbing back into the bed. His head is spinning with thoughts at Zayn’s admission until he falls asleep with one he’s content with. Maybe he really can have his best mate back after this is all over. Maybe there’s still a chance he hasn’t ruined everything between them.

 

He doesn’t see Harry most of the next day either, taking a separate plane with Liam and Sophia hours after the other three. He has no idea why this leg of the tour was staggered this way, instead of starting up in Brisbane and working their way around Australia clockwise. It helps though, because they get to take a flight for this stretch instead of being thrown together on the buses for an exhaustingly long two day drive that would be awkward as all hell.

As it stands, they get to Melbourne without incident, taking a car to the hotel where they’ll be through the weekend. Liam doesn’t try to talk to him about things, probably warned off of it by Zayn, and Niall appreciates it silently. The ride to the hotel is the last easy part of the day though, because as soon as he rides the lift to the floor they’re staying on Louis is there, a stormy look across his features. Niall knows this expression, and he knows even better to fear it. “Horan!” he shrieks, his tenor bouncing off the walls so it sounds like there are a thousand of him filling the hallway, instead of just the army of one standing before him.

Liam moves in front of Niall instinctively, trying to protect him in the face of danger. Louis sends him a withering glare that has the much larger lad shrinking into the corner of the elevator beside Sophia. So much for protecting Niall. Louis stalks forward, pinning Niall against the back of the lift while Liam looks around for any help he can find. He’s basically useless except for the fact his great bloody body is keeping the doors open. At least that gives Niall about a fifty percent chance of surviving this if Paddy can get out of his room and to the lift before Louis strangles him to death. They never should have let Mark stay in the lobby to flirt with the concierge.

He’s going to try charm as his last defense. It’s shaky at best, but it’s the only leg he has to stand on. “Hey Tommo!” he beams. “I never thanked you for helping me the other night, but you’re a right mate.”

Louis’ hand moves like a snake, a slim-fingered bruise burning itself into Niall’s cheek before he even registers the movement. “How dare you!” Louis shouts. “I helped you with that so that you could fix things, not so that you could br-”

“Louis!” Harry’s voice roars down the hallway, nearly knocking Niall over with the sheer unexpected force in it. He moves down the hall impossibly fast until he’s looming over Louis like a thunderhead. Niall has to push down a twinge of attraction to Harry like this, dark and furious. “I told you to leave it alone.”

“How am I supposed to-” Louis starts to protest. He’s cut off when Harry’s fingers pinch onto his ear, tugging him down the hallway until he can throw Louis into an open room.

“I’m sorry about that.” Harry apologizes. “He gets-”

“No need to explain.” Niall mumbles, walking past the taller lad at a brisk pace. He reaches his door, squeezing his eye shut for a second before he turns back to Harry. “And um- Thanks for sending Zayn down last night. Having him really helped.”

Harry’s eyes go wide for a second, and then he nods shakily. Niall only remembers after he steps into his room that he wasn’t actually supposed to know that. That’s probably why he hears Liam yelp and shout “I didn’t bloody know! Neither of them said anything!”

 

“Did you tell Harry we slept together?” Zayn asks, cornering Niall in the hallway when he runs down to the machine for ice.

“What?” Niall gapes. “No!”

“Then why is he under the impression that we did?” Zayn questions, his eyes pinning Niall to the wall just as Louis’ had earlier.

“I have no right idea, do I?” Niall stammers, holding up the ice bucket between the two of them as a final bastion. If worse comes to worst he can tip it onto Zayn and make a break for it. They’re only a few yards from his room, and the door is still open. He might make it. Then again his luck has been for shit as of late.

“What did you say to him?” Zayn asks. “The specific words if you’d please.”

“That was hours ago mate.” Niall sighs. “I thanked him for sending you down last night. I think I said that having you helped.”

“God, you’re both so bloody thick.” Zayn groans. “Whatever. Fix this. You two can do whatever you’re doing, but I’m not having him mad at me for something that never even happened.”

“Or-” Niall offers. “Now hear me out, we could go actually shag so that I don’t have to talk to him.”

“Nice try.” Zayn chuckles.

“Zayn, please.” Niall begs. “Things the other night didn’t go according to plan exactly.”

“How shocking.” Zayn mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“We sort of had sex before I told him I couldn’t do that anymore. And then I told him that I loved him.” Niall admits. “I can’t talk to him yet.”

“That’s so not my problem.” Zayn huffs. He pulls out a key-card and then hooks a hand around the back of Niall’s neck, steering him down the hallway until they reach a door he regrettably remembers from this afternoon. “Just tell him that we didn’t shag. After that you’re free to go back to your room and hide until the next concert for all I care.”

“Zayn, no!” Niall cries uselessly as the darker lad shoves him through the door. This would already be mortifying, but Niall’s heart stops beating when he catches sight of the bed. The ice bucket slips out of his grasp, clattering to the floor. Harry’s tangled up under the sheets with Louis, and while he can’t see anything below the waist, he knows their upper halves are completely bare.

Harry turns over, his mouth gaping as he scrambles to say anything. “Niall! It’s not what you think, I swear!”

“That’s uh- That’s not really any of my business. We’ve all suspected it at some point or other, ya know?” Niall mumbles, turning his eyes towards the floor just so he doesn’t have to see any more. “I just wanted you to know that you might have misinterpreted what I said earlier. Zayn and I- we didn’t sleep together. He wants you to know that. I just meant to thank you for having him bring me food.”

“Niall-” Louis starts, but the blond has no interest in hearing what he has to say.

“That’s all I came in here for. Have fun you two. Best of luck on whatever this is.” Niall says, trying his best to keep his voice steady, even as his heart disintegrates into nothing within his chest. He’s that easy to replace. Two nights, and Harry’s already moved on to another of their band mates. He wrenches the door open, knocking Zayn off his balance and shoving him away harshly. It’s his turn to freeze somebody with a glare. That and a hand fisted in the front of Zayn’s shirt. “I hope you’re bloody happy.”

He leaves without bothering to explain, stomping off to his room with the bucket of ice forgotten for the night.

 

He doesn’t see any of the boys until the fourteenth, just before they hit the stage, going so far as to keep himself hidden through their pre-concert rituals. It’s something none of them have ever done, no matter how upset they were with each other. They’ve also never had a situation like this though, as far as Niall is aware, where even looking at three of his band-mates makes his stomach heave. 

He’s still furious with Zayn for making him see that, for pushing him over something so trivial that he could have taken care of himself. And for Louis to have the audacity to come after him, when he then turns around and sleeps with Harry. And Harry, to accuse him and Zayn of sleeping together, like it would even matter to him.

He makes it through the concert with a fake smile plastered on his face, keeping his distance from everyone except Liam throughout the entire thing. He’s sure it’ll be all over tumblr in the morning. The fans, as much as Niall truly does love and appreciate them, have a tendency to notice things and blow them out of proportion, except in this case it wouldn’t be out of proportion. Not to Niall.

He runs through the corridors of the venue, not even bothering to change and give the outfit he’s wearing back to Caroline. He has a car ready and waiting to take him back to the hotel, prepped ahead of time through one of the security staff. He’d tried to get management to rent him a room in a different hotel, but that was apparently a no-go. Now he’s just trying to get back before anyone else so he can’t get cornered.

He hears Zayn and Louis call after him, fighting the security guards he’d bribed to block the path behind him. He’d planned this well, and that’s the only consolation he has when he climbs into the car waiting just outside the door. Traffic out of the venue is still a nightmare, even having gotten out of there so early. It takes close to an hour to get back to the hotel, and he spends the entire drive fighting back tears. There’s no divider in the car, and he doesn’t want to explain anything to the chauffeur.

The ride in the lift is suffocating, none of his mates there to squeeze his shoulder, no Harry to whisper distractions in his ear, nothing to keep him from the ever-present fear that it will stall and drop him to his death. It’s a stupid little thing, still niggling at the back of his mind after the literally thousands of rides he’s taken in lifts in just the last four years alone. That’s what a phobia is though, a fear that always grips you, no matter how irrational it may actually be.

The doors slide open, as they always do (except for that one time at the Brits) and he steps off hurriedly. His lungs fill up with something bigger than the shallow terrified pants he was taking in the lift. It takes him a moment before he can get his legs working again, but the doors close behind him, called back to the lobby most likely, nipping his bum and he shoots forward.

A bark of laughter escapes past his lips, the first real one in days. It’s something stupid, but it would have made Harry laugh. It would have made any of them laugh actually, but not in the same boisterous cackle that rings in your ears forever afterwards. That laugh that makes Niall feel better when he didn’t even know it was possible.

He crosses down the hall, shaking the thought out of his head. The last thing he needs (on Valentine’s day nonetheless) is to fall back into memories of Harry. He grumbles to himself about the distance, not for the first time hating the fact that his room is all the way at the end of the hall. Nobody else on tour has a bum knee, so why is his always the room at the end of the hall? It’s a fucking travesty.

He inserts the key-card and throws open the door to something out of a bloody romance novel. Every surface of the room is covered in roses, petals on the floor and bedspread, and vases full of bouquets on everything else. “I was supposed to get here first.” an all too familiar voice says behind him. “I had a whole thing planned out.”

“How the hell did you get here this fast?” Niall asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “How did you do all this? Why did you do all this?”

“You aren’t the only one who knows how to get out of a venue quickly. I walked into the lobby at the same time you were getting on the elevator.” Harry sighs. “As for how, it helps to be a charming millionaire. And the why- well I think that should be obvious.”

“Well it’s bloody not!” Niall spits, turning on Harry with bile rising up in his throat.

“Then let me ask you a question.” Harry asks, stepping forward until his torso is almost flush against Niall’s. “When you said you loved me, did you mean that in the past tense?”

“No.” Niall admits in a whisper, unsure of why he’s even making this confession. “I still love you. I think I always have.”

“That’s good, because I love you too.” Harry smiles, leaning in and pulling Niall into a kiss. He’s too stunned to do anything, too startled from the words he never thought he’d hear from Harry. Harry scoffs and mumbles against Niall’s lips “If you don’t kiss me back I’m going to be really embarrassed.”

“You should be.” Niall laughs. “Bloody roses everywhere. You’re a sop.”

“It’s romantic.” Harry pouts.

“It’s a mess.” Niall argues.

“Why are you so impossible?” Harry groans.

“Because this doesn’t fix anything Harry.” Niall sighs. “It changes things, but it doesn’t fix them. There’s no foundation for a future here.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, his eyes going wide.

“A thousand reasons.” Niall mumbles, backing up away from Harry.

“Give me one that really matters.” Harry says, pressing forward again to crowd into Niall’s space and cloud his mind.

“You took two years to say I love you.” Niall offers.

“So did you.” Harry points out.

“You slept with Louis.” Niall remembers, growling deep in his throat at the image that resurfaces.

“I have never slept with Louis. Well sleeping yeah, but nothing else.” Harry sighs. “I told you that it wasn’t what you thought. He was sobering me up, and he climbed in the shower with me. I was a wreck when I thought that you had slept with Zayn, so I had a bit too much to drink. He was just trying to help me pull myself together. You came in after he made me get in bed, and I asked him to stay.”

“Even if you didn’t sleep with Louis, you have slept with other people.” Niall mutters. “We both know that. You’ve broken things off with me multiple times to have a relationship with people.”

“Because I never thought you’d want a real relationship with me, Niall.” Harry groans, dropping his head against the doorway. He takes a deep breath, pulling himself together and then cupping a hand to Niall’s cheek. “You made it very clear from the beginning that you only wanted this to be sex. When I asked you for more? That was me asking you out. But you’re- You’re you. You’re like a fucking drug for me and I was willing to take whatever you would give me.

“So occasionally I’d try and pull myself up, to get over you. But none of them ever lasted because I never loved them. I kept falling back into you. I never wanted anyone besides you. But I was scared- so fucking scared. I’ve only ever been in love one other time, and that didn’t end well. He didn’t love me back. Not like I loved him.

“So I was content to just leave things as they were, because at least then I couldn’t hurt any worse than I already did, thinking that you just didn’t love me back like that. Then the other night happened in Sidney, and I thought you had finally just lost interest in me. I panicked, and that turned into all this. And I was ready to just throw in the towel, to give up on having anything with you. Then you said you loved me right after you ended things. And after that you said you slept with Zayn, and then you said you didn’t.

“I needed some time to figure things out, and that took a couple days. But I decided to take a chance on this, and just admit that since we started this, whatever this was, I have been stupidly, impossibly, all-consumingly in love with you, Niall. And now I’m stalling for as long as I can, because I just don’t want you to tell me all over again that we can’t be together. But since I said that, I guess I’m out of time, and I’ll be needing the bottle of champagne I ordered to your room to try and drown myself in.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Niall says quietly.

“Just give me the champagne Niall.” Harry pleads. “You can keep the meal I had delivered, and everything else that I had arranged in there.”

“Harry.” Niall groans, rolling his eyes because both of them are so incredibly stupid. “I said ‘I don’t think that’s necessary’.”

“I know. I’m not deaf Niall, just stupid for thinking this would work.” Harry mumbles.

“It did.” Niall says quietly, lifting Harry’s chin up so their eyes meet. “Not your ridiculously soppy gesture. That’s still idiotic, and you’re not making me, or the maids, clean up the mess. What you said though, if you meant it, that worked.”

“I meant every word.” Harry breathes out. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Niall asks. “Some overly-romantic git ordered me a meal and champagne, so I might be convinced to share.”

“Is that so?” Harry asks. “You never share food.”

“I do when I’m in love with someone.” Niall shrugs. “Maybe. Haven’t tried it yet. Seems like the kind of thing you do though, yeah?”

“Seems like.” Harry hums in agreement. “So what else do you do when you’re in love?”

“Well in my experience, you sit around pining, have an Olympic level row without even saying a hundred words, shag like the bloody world is ending, and then avoid each other for days while you drink yourself stupid.” Niall offers. “But my experience isn’t really a lot to go on.”

“Then I guess we can figure that out together.” Harry laughs. “I have a few ideas.”

“Because your last one was so bloody brilliant.” Niall scoffs.

“Hey.” Harry whines. “I think it worked out rather well. I got you out of it didn’t I?”

“We’ll see.” Niall grins.

“Don’t tease me with this Ni.” Harry says, his voice just shy of begging. “If you aren’t going to go forward with this, then let me know now. Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Hey.” Niall says gently, thumbing over Harry’s cheekbone. “I’m serious about this, about us. I don’t know yet if it’s all going to work out, but my hopes are as high as yours right now. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry smiles, soft and sweet in the way that Niall had always pictured in the back of his mind. It’s better though, the way the words whisper across his skin. The way his heart stutters a beat at the sound of them fresh off Harry’s tongue. The way Harry’s long fingers work their way between Niall’s in a gesture of affection that Niall can’t believe he didn’t ever notice was intentional.

He’s still not sure how things got to this point, how everything went from being tits-up to being on the cusp of perfect, but he’s damn glad they did.


End file.
